And Then
by justonemore
Summary: Rebuilding is never easy


About six hours after Earth wasn't destroyed, after Nero's destruction, after all of the shoes had seemingly dropped, they received an incoming transmission. Spock had just stepped out of the turbolift onto the bridge, exchanging a brief glance with Uhura. Kirk was trying not to knock over the piles of damage reports written by cadets who had never before written a damage report, when Uhura turned to him.

"Incoming from the Federation Council, Sir." The Council itself. Kirk swallowed.

"Main viewscreen, please, Lieutenant." Uhura transferred the message to the main viewer. The Federation Council appeared before them. They looked older than they did on the evening holonews, drawn, sorrowful. The chair, former Nobel Peace Prize winner Alphonse Utrecht, spoke.

"Acting Captain Kirk, I'm afraid we must prevail upon you once more. I believe that you are carrying the Vulcan High Council on the Enterprise." Kirk nodded. In the aftermath of the final attack, he had seen Ambassador Sarek eying him from a corner of the bridge, and the sudden realization that his ship carried the last living repositories of the knowledge of a once great civilization had sobered even James Kirk. He had asked Spock to make the Vulcan elders comfortable, and to give them whatever facilities or assistance was needed. They had set up in the conference room, and, until a few minutes before, Spock had been ensconced with them ever since. An hour ago, they had asked Lieutenant Uhura to send a message to the Federation Council.

"We have the remaining – " Kirk looked over at Spock, who held up one hand, "the remaining five members of the Council on board."

"We would like you to take them to Galaga Two, where there is a Vulcan outpost on a Class M planet. The Elders wish to regroup there, and begin contacting as many of the remaining Vulcans as possible."

"We only have impulse engines, Sir," said Kirk. "My engineer has obtained the necessary parts but he estimates -," Kirk began rifling though the PADDs on his chair, " a week before we can go to warp."

Councilmember Lesto, a tall Andorian, raised a hand. "We understand. Starfleet told us of the damage you sustained, but with much of the fleet away or destroyed, we have little choice. We are coping with a great deal of damage here in San Francisco, but we can spare a few engineers to expedite things. We would like you to get underway as soon as possible."

"Aye, sir."

Uhura caught a last glimpse of the faces of the Council as the screen went blank, and she saw and shared their disbelief. Vulcan had been the first civilization to contact Earth, had shepherded Earth through its warp development program, had been a valuable, if perhaps intrusive, source of information on early space exploration, and had been a voice of reason in the cacophony of the Federation government. Now Vulcan was gone. The Federation High Council members were attempting to aid the survivors in any way they could, but they had not quite been prepared to start taking care of their caretakers. Uhura looked over at Spock, and she knew exactly what they were feeling. Spock returned her look as he stepped into the turbolift, and was gone.

Uhura returned her attention to her twin projects. While she was performing all of the usual duties of a Communications Officer, she was doing it on a badly damaged system. She estimated that only 40 percent of her board was working, and the main communications array had been badly damaged. Mr. Scott's people were taking care of the array, but the bridge station was up to Uhura. Actually manning the ship's comm system was something she doing in between replacing motherboards, relays, and power supplies.

She saw Kirk flip through his collection of PADDS again, and then toss them in the command chair in frustration.

"Lieutenant, please inform Mr. Scott that he's getting both cavalry and marching orders. I'm going to see for myself how much is left of my ship."

As Kirk entered the turbolift, Uhura smiled at how proprietary he'd become. Captain Pike had been transferred to Starfleet Medical, and although the Enterprise might only be his for a few more days or weeks, Kirk treated the ship as he would have a firstborn child. Okay, probably better, Uhura conjectured. She turned back to her circuit boards.

Spock got off the turbolift near the conference room and guest quarters where his father and the rest of the remaining members of the Vulcan High Council had established themselves, although they had altered it so little that established might be a strong word. The one change they had made was to the temperature, so that now there was at least one area on the ship that Spock didn't find drafty. They were now in the conference room itself, discussing their plans quietly.

Spock entered and, still standing, informed them that the Federation Council had agreed to transport them to their desired destination on this very vessel, but that engine repairs would delay them for several days. The elders received the information impassively. Minister Radok spoke,

"The delay will work in our favor. We will need to begin contacting our research vessels, our Ambassadors, our trading vessels. Some will have heard of our loss, but all need to be convinced to let their voices be heard on the new direction our society will take. We will need access to the Federation databases. Our own records of our vessels and their locations…"

He didn't need to elaborate further. Spock informed them that the most updated information would be available at the Federation Library in San Francisco. The Enterprise usually only had archived data, and the ship's databases had been damaged in the recent ordeal. Spock began setting up database queries for the elders, listening as they reasoned their way through determining the data they would need to formulate their desired census of their remaining brethren. He used his own access codes, and in a few cases, Captain Pike's, to search for Vulcan vessels on classified missions. He tried to lose himself in the bureaucracy, the algorithms of the searches. He hadn't slept in quite some time, but he preferred to be doing something, anything, rather than have time to be alone with his thoughts. He sometimes thought he saw his father watching him, but he decided to ignore it. His father's dissatisfaction was nothing new, and Spock felt that it mattered less with each passing day. He had devalued his mother's approval in comparison with his father's, but it was his mother's belief that he should follow his own path that had led him safely here, that had put him in a position to save the High Council, something no non-Vulcan Starfleet officer could have known how to do. But would a non-Vulcan Starfleet officer have been able to save her? If he had allowed himself more of his mother's impetuosity, would he have been a little bolder, plunged into the cave sooner, run faster? Spock concentrated on his query requests, and batched them all to Lieutenant Uhura.

Uhura did her best to give the data requests of the elders top priority, but they were not easy. The Enterprise's comm system was at half strength, and the Federation Library's was also damaged in the attack on Earth. In addition, Spock needed to speak to several library personnel, and there was so much structural damage to San Francisco that few library employees were at work; rather, they had taken some time off to see to repairs on their homes. Fortunately, she knew the San Francisco comm system like the back of her hand and availed herself of several shortcuts. At least, she solaced herself, the Enterprise's other traffic was light, since the submission of the reports of damage to the other cadet manned ships had been submitted right when they arrived. Uhura soberly thought about all of those families receiving notifications now, including those of her roommate.

After six hours of relaying data requests for Spock and the elders, Uhura received a direct communication from Spock.

"Lieutenant, you have been on duty for 20 hours, is that correct?" Uhura had to think for a minute. She could hear murmuring in Vulcan in the background.

"Yes, I guess it is."

"You should allow yourself to be relieved." Uhura hesitated. She was indeed tired. She was also moved that he was inquiring about her, after all he had been through, and worried about the fact that Spock must be in worse shape. At least she had slept a few fitful hours between the attacks on Vulcan and Earth. She was sure he hadn't slept since they had left Earth for Vulcan, and maybe for days before that. He had told her once casually that he could go three days without any sleep, barring physical exertion, but when he ran the Starfleet Marathon each year, he could not stay up for more than two days afterwards. She was pretty sure that running into a collapsing cave to save a governing body, infiltrating an enemy ship, and piloting it toward destruction counted as exertion. Somehow, she couldn't bring herself to tell him what to do. She had to trust him to know what he needed, and she wanted to accept the gift of his concern for her. She turned her station over to Cadet Raymond and headed to her quarters.

She passed Kirk in the corridor. He smiled and raised his eyebrows.

"Off-duty, Lieutenant?"

"Yes, Sir."

"I'd offer to join you in your quarters, but I'm afraid your favorite Vulcan would finish me off."

"I think he'd have to sew you back together first, Sir."

Kirk laughed, and continued toward the bridge.

When she arrived at her quarters, she found that she didn't feel any sense of relief. It really wasn't home. The small room was spartanly furnished: a bed, a desk, a closet, a bathroom, grey linens and no wall decorations. When the cadets had boarded Enterprise days ago, she had tossed her kitbag on the floor and headed to the bridge. In these unfamiliar surroundings, she had that odd out of place feeling, and she was worried that she would never sleep, that the adrenaline and the grief of the last few days would prevent it. After a few minutes, she discovered that her level of fatigue trumped everything else. Her last thought before she drifted off was that Spock might know her better than she knew herself.

She was late for her Romulan final and she couldn't find the entrance to the building, and then she was trying to make it to the wedding of her best friend from high school and she couldn't find a taxicraft. When she found herself running to warn the head of Starfleet Academy of an impending attack, she finally woke up and asked the computer for the time. Six hours. Not bad, and certainly more sleep than she'd ever gotten before a final. She felt reasonably refreshed, and after she'd had a hot meal in the mess hall, she felt even better. She returned to her room, and started her computer terminal. She felt compelled to write some letters to the parents of her roommate and those of some of her other friends who had died. They deserved to know how brave their children were. She started three different letters. She would get as far as the first few sentences, and then she couldn't go on, and would start another. It wasn't just that she was at a loss to explain the senseless deaths of half of Starfleet Academy. Her dreams were haunting her, imbuing her with that nagging sense that she needed to be somewhere. She wasn't due back on the bridge for three hours, but she dressed in her uniform and headed for the turbolift.

When she relieved Raymond, sending him first for more relays, she was glad that she had come back early. Half a dozen data or communication requests from the Vulcan High Council or Spock were in the queue, and some had been there for hours.

"They've had me working," said Raymond, as he dumped a container of circuit boards, "but half the array's still down, and San Francisco Central Comm is a ghost town, and…"

"It's okay, Raymond. I've got it from here. She began rerouting the queries. She surveyed her board. Raymond had made progress, but had left her the most challenging parts. It was okay; he was only a second year, and she was glad he'd had the maturity to leave what he wasn't sure about alone, instead of doing it incorrectly and leaving her yet another mess to clean up. She contacted the Federation again, and then she hailed Spock in the conference room.

Spock listened as the elders discussed their strategy for recalling the diplomatic corps. They were hoping that the diplomats could form the core of a new government bureaucracy. These message requests would be more involved, since he had to contact various planetary governments to reach the embassies. As he carefully composed them, he idly ruminated on this new Vulcan society. It would be made up of traders, researchers, members of Starfleet, all people who had lived off-world, who had been looking for something that conventional Vulcan society couldn't give them. Even the government would be made up of bureaucrats who had spent most of their time off-world. It would be a more open Vulcan, and full of off-world influences. Spock could not tell whether this fact represented any improvement. He knew, though, that the elders had probably drawn the same conclusions, and he wondered if they too reserved judgment, or if, in some deepest part of the reptilian part of the brain that all sentient beings possess, they felt a sense of fear at the changes to come.

"Spock." His father was at his shoulder. "It would be advisable to rest. You have been awake for many days, with a great deal of exertion."

Spock shook his head and began to reply, but suddenly, his datascreen began to fill. The comm system beeped.

"Mr Spock, I have the administrator of the Federation Trading Registry on line for you."

It was Uhura. Spock felt a sense of peace wash over him, which he thought might be relief at hearing her voice.

"Lieutenant, I had not expected to hear from you for several hours, yet."

"I accomplished what I needed to during my time off, and there is no shortage of work here."

Both Spock and Uhura heard the murmuring in Vulcan around Spock, as one elder noted "Ah, the datastream has finally returned."

"Is the communication system back on-line, Lieutenant?"

"We are at about 65 percent here, and my last status report from Mr Scott said that the array is at about 50 percent."

"But the system seems to be working more smoothly, and this change was rather sudden."

"There is a barely used satellite array that is geosynchronous with Sacramento, and their receiver on ground has a local connection to San Francisco. I've been using that"

"I take it Mr. Raymond is unaware of this shortcut.?"

"He IS a second year student, and hasn't yet done his practicum. Perhaps the Curriculum Review Committee might remedy this."

"Point taken," noted Spock, the Vice Chair of the Curriculum Review Committee. "In any case, we have reason to be gratified at your return to duty."

Uhura smiled. For the next 15 hours, Spock and the High Council continued to send Uhura more data and communication requests. They weren't so frequent that she couldn't continue her repairs, but every time she spoke to Spock, he sounded wearier and wearier, and she had never heard that tone of resignation in his voice before.

At the end of her shift, she was quite satisfied with the results of her work. The board was at about 85 percent. She stopped by her quarters to unpack a little, and make a few adjustments. She put up her favorite photo, a candid shot of a group taken at the last annual student-faculty softball game. Spock, who had never seen the game before, spent one inning watching, and then proceeded to become the faculty's star player, hitting three home runs. He had not, however, entirely understood the nuances of infield play, and he had been completely creamed by a runner while playing third base. In the picture, he was sporting a green bruise on his face and was deep in conversation with Sulu, a softball enthusiast who had agreed to coach the faculty out of a mixture of deference and pity. That was the day that Uhura had realized that she had completely fallen for Spock. She had always been left a little breathless by his intellect and competence, but when he limped off the field, accepted the icepack she handed him, and pronounced the experience invigorating, she was completely charmed by his willingness to try something at which he wouldn't necessarily excel. She wondered if she could get him to accept another ice pack, so to speak.

When she headed down the corridor to the conference room, she didn't have much of a plan, but she hoped that she could find an opportunity to speak to Spock privately. She rang the door chime, and, upon entering, found herself face to face with Ambassador Sarek. She could see Spock standing behind him, half turned toward a Minister Radok's computer terminal. Smiling, she informed the Ambassador that although her shift was over, she had given Lt. Raymond the necessary instructions to make sure that their requests would be processed smoothly.

"I thank you Lieutenant – Uhura, is it? Perhaps you can convince my son to take some rest. I believe he has been exerting himself too much. Spock drifted over to the doorway, and seemed about to reply to his father.

"I could quote the Starfleet Field Manual on proper shift management of personnel," she said, quietly, "But it would be rare for Commander Spock to need to be reminded of procedure." The other elders were deep in conversation and were paying no attention to them. Ambassador Sarek said, quietly,

"My son, I believe that your mother, in this instance, would want you to rest. I feel an obligation to her to speak for her now, as well as for myself, in matters concerning you."

Uhura was unsure whether it was the mention of his mother, or the fact that his father had used the word "feel", but Spock could not look at either of them. He nodded curtly, and headed down the corridor. She bade the Ambassador goodnight, and she followed Spock. He was walking very slowly, and she had no trouble catching up to him. She reached down and took his hand. He made no move to resist as she led him down the corridor to her quarters.

They stepped through the doorway into the balmy air of her room. Uhura had cranked up the heat to 30 degrees Celsius, the temperature at which Spock kept his own quarters. She had been hoping to convince him to try to sleep, and a warm room often did the trick for most people. He turned to her briefly.

"This is not too warm for you?"

"No I'm from a very warm continent back on Earth."

Spock nodded. He walked over to the viewport.

"I do not know if I wish to sleep. I – I am not sure I wish to be alone with my thoughts."

Uhura was now even more concerned. Spock, like most Vulcans, had a substantial amount of mental control over his own body. He couldn't heal his own wounds or anything like that, but most Vulcans could control things like their blood pressure, and had little trouble inducing sleep when necessary.

"Maybe you should try to get comfortable, " she said. She coaxed him to take off his uniform. In his Starfleet issue shorts, he sat heavily on the bed. Uhura sat next to him and put a hand on his shoulder to push him gently over. He lay on his side with his back to her. She covered him with the blanket and sheets. He caught her hand.

"You will stay?"

"Of course. Just let me change." Uhura changed into her usual nightshirt, and ordered the computer to turn down the lights. She sat down on the bed. Spock continued to lie on his side with his back to her and stare out of the viewport. She leaned over, kissed his cheek, and stroked his hair. Then she lay back down on her side of the bed. She didn't want to disturb him, and she had hoped that it would be enough to create a comfortable environment. Yet after 20 minutes, Spock's breathing hadn't altered.

She put her hand on the back of his neck.

"Nyota, if you touch me, I will probably see some of your thoughts. It isn't the same as a true mind meld, but…"

"I know," she said. She pushed him down so that he lay on his stomach, and she began rubbing his back.

"I did not know that you had that picture."

"Of the softball game? It brings back good memories."

"It isn't as most pictures that I have seen in people's quarters. Usually, people in photos face the camera, and are prepared for the picture to be taken."

"That's true," she said. "But I prefer to remember people as they actually were."

"When I remember my mother, perhaps then, I should not remember her last moments, but…"

"Who she was, what made her laugh, how she celebrated important occasions." Uhura stopped speaking, and as she continued rubbing his back, she began to think quiet, calm thoughts, of pleasant, neutral places. She could feel him relax under her hands.

"Thank you," he said quietly.

At last, they slept.


End file.
